And How the King Doth Fall
by Banshi13
Summary: The Magical Wars have ended, the Preventer Time are here. Together, Harry and Draco deal with the beginnings and ends of their family, their friends, and their lives.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Though, for this fic, I would most certainly like to rent out Harry and Draco for just a wee bit.The thumbnail was procured from

knock, knock.

Harry cracked open a tired, crusty eye and blinked. It wasn't even 6 in the morning, so who could be knocking on his door this early?

_Knock, knock, knock._

"This had better be good," he grumbled, rolling out of bed and grabbing a pair of pants. He glanced out the window of his bedroom flat and mumbled a few more choice words. The sun wasn't even close to rising. The green lighting of his clock informed him that he'd been way off on his calculations of the time. It was just barely five in the morning. "This had better be really good..."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Alright, alright! Bloody five in the morning, give me a break, would you?" Harry grabbed his glasses and made his way through the hallway and into the living room, glaring at the door as though it were his arch enemy. Though he was one of the most powerful wizards in the world at the moment, he took no chances, looking through the small peep hole in his door. He'd chosen to live in the muggle world, away from the press and politics that seemed to follow him every where he went.

So, he was mildly, if not incredibly surprised when he saw the light bouncing off a head of platinum blonde hair.

"Draco?" He opened up the door wide and stared at the other man. "Well, I gotta say you coming into the muggle world willingly was something I never thought I'd see."

"I've lived in the wizarding world all my life, Potter. Not much there to interest me anymore," Draco shrugged, not stepping forward, but rather arching an eyebrow. "Are you going to allow me to stand out here in the freezing cold?"

"Seems a rather fit punishment for waking me up at five in the morning, don't you think?" But Harry left the door open and walked away, heading toward the small kitchen that seemed to follow every man who lived alone around. He heard Draco step inside and close the door, saw him put his cloak up on the coat rack, but he didn't sit down.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you. Not really in the toasting mood yet." The blonde looked around the apartment. Never having been here before, but knowing it's location for quite a while, it seemed odd that he'd never taken the opportunity to call upon Harry at his home. But then again, Harry's job as an Auror, and now, a kind of Preventer took him into the wizarding world every day. There really was no need to come to his apartment to see him.

"Not in the toasting mood 'yet'?" Harry came out of the kitchen and set a glass of water down for Draco any way. He never listened to the man, unless they were out on missions together when their lives were in danger. "Has something grand happened?"

"I'm sure you'll think so."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"My father died."

"Oh," Harry uttered after an exceptionally long pause, "well then...I can see why you wouldn't be in the mood for toasting."

"Yet," Draco added on quickly. He shrugged. "I don't know...I feel like I should be angry, I feel like I should want to avenge his death...I feel like I should be sad. The man was my father, for Merlin's sake. But I can't." He shrugged, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"When did it happen?"

"A few hours ago."

"How?"

"A raid on a suspected old Deatheater base. The reports of some of Voldemort's old followers were verified just last night, and they already had a team standing by for just such an occasion. They were sent in and...well, those that didn't resist were captured and taken into custody. Those that did obviously fought and lost. Badly."

"Lucius fought, I take it?"

"He's a Malfoy. We're not taken anywhere against our will."

"He was executed on the spot?"

"No."

"Died in a duel?"

"No."

"Draco, are you saying he-"

"Yes."

"Draco..."

"He wasn't about to be taken by ministry officials, Auror's can not kill on sight as though they are free from the law, and none of them were about to participate in a duel with Lucius Malfoy. The final report states that he was told to give himself up three times, and after the third demand, a green light was seen from the room the auror's knew him to be in. They walked in and found his body, his wand in his hand." Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'coward', but Harry chose not to press the issue.

"Weasley was in on the raid," Draco announced unexpectedly. He watched Harry's eyebrows shoot up. "Was he?"

"Apprehended Bellatrix Lestrange himself."

"Did he."

Harry's grip tightened on his glass of water. No wonder he hadn't been told of the raid, a question that he had intended on asking Draco after the conversation about Lucius was finished. The ministry officials knew that Bellatrix would be there, and Harry would have never let her go without finishing her off. Draco also knew this, and didn't question his companion's reaction.

"She's got a pretty good mark on her face from where Weasley punched her. And I thought he would always be a gentleman," Draco chuckled, "I wonder what Granger would say to that."

"Probably something along the lines of, 'Oh Ron, now really, did you have to inflict bodily harm on her? She's insane, you know.'" Harry's impersonation of his best friend was so dead on that Draco had to laugh aloud.

"Are you going to sit down?" Harry continued, "or do I have to make you rest yourself for a few hours?"

"As if you could ever _make_ me do anything." Never the less, and to Harry's great amusement, Draco took a seat on the couch, Harry joining him a few moments later. The latter placed his glass on the coffee table, then leaned back, propping his elbow on the back of the couch, and then his chin in his hand. For a few moments, he looked at his one time enemy, now his trusted, loyal, and loving partner.

"I'm not happy he's dead, Draco. I had hoped that, when we captured him, he might have seen how wrong he was...but I guess that wasn't to be."

"He never would have even begun to think that he was wrong, Potter."

"We're not at the office, Draco. You can call me Harry, you know."

"Fine. He never would have even begun to think that he was wrong, _Harry._"

"Much better."

Draco shook his head. "My father just died, and you're sitting there complaining about the way I address you."

"I wasn't complaining. Merely stating a fact."

Draco shook his head, letting it lull into the crook of Harry's neck and shoulder area. Almost immediately, as he knew it would, Harry's delicate fingers came up to brush the stray strands of blonde that were clouding his forehead.

"Is it wrong that I don't feel any remorse for him?"

"Is it _wrong_?" Harry repeated, "Draco...the man was hardly a father to you. He cared more about Voldemort's plans that about your or your mother, the way he treated you at home would give the Dursley's a run for their money in my book."

"If something happened to your Aunt and Uncle, wouldn't you feel sorry for it?" Draco asked, repositioning his neck so that now he was looking up at Harry. He knew that he'd caught Harry with that question. Of course, his love was much to forgiving and understanding for his own good, but there were times that Draco was grateful for it. If Harry hadn't been that way, Draco would probably be shaking hands with his father right now in the after life waiting room, escorting him to his eternal place in Hell.

"I suppose I would," Harry finally admitted, "if for no other reason than they allowed me the use of their home when they could have just as well sent me to an orphanage that wouldn't be protected by the bells and whistles of magic." He heard Draco snort and looked down. "You disagree?"

"Harry, the only reason they kept you in the house for as long as they did was because they were afraid of Dumbledore."

"Yes but...it was Dumbledore. He wouldn't have seriously hurt them. But he could deliver rather stern warnings and lectures when he wanted to..." The dark haired boy thought back on many of the times he, Ron, and Hermione had broken the rules of Hogwarts to get to the bottom of some mysterious mis-deed in the school. Then, of course, there was the time when Dumbledore had called upon his aunt and uncle and cleaned their clocks, leaving them trembling in fear in the living room. "No, I don't think you're wrong," he finally answered, gently massaging the tense kinks out of Draco's shoulders, "I'm not sure anyone could say that you were wrong but you. Do you feel wrong?"

"Yes."

"Then you're wrong."

"You're a great bloody help, you know that?"

Harry chuckled, planting a soft kiss on the mans head. "You know, we have to be at work in an hour and a half, correct?"

"Your point?"

"No point. Just wondering if you knew."

"Yes, I knew."

"Well, in that case, help yourself to what ever is in the fridge for breakfast. I'll be getting ready." He gently shrugged Draco off of him, much to the former Slytherin's protests and stood up, stretching his limbs. "By the way, what made you come here so early?"

"I can't visit my boyfriend in my hour of need?"

"No, no, no you can visit me when ever...I'm just wondering, what made you get past the horrors of the muggle world to come and see me when you could have just as easily waited for me to arrive at the ministry?"

"I didn't want to wait for you to arrive at the ministry. I wanted to see you now. So I did. Plus, at the ministry, you couldn't have invited me onto your couch for me to lay my head on your shoulder and kissed me the way you did just now and..." Draco shrugged, not saying anything more, but rather letting his gaze move past Harry and into the kitchen. "Hey, that's what muggles call a stove, isn't it?"

_And that's what you wanted,_ finished Harry in his mind. "Yea, that's it. That's a stove. Try not to burn the flat down with it while I'm getting ready, alright?" As Harry walked out of the room, while Draco peered at the white and black object, eyeing the various buttons and knobs. After scrutinizing it closely, he crossed his arms. "How can you burn down a flat with a black and white box?"

_Harry Potter_

It was 6:45 when Harry and Draco were finally ready to leave Harry's flat to head to work. Because the flat didn't have a fire place, they were not connected to the floo network, but that was all right. Harry's apartment wasn't but a few blocks from Charing Cross Road in London, and the Leaky Cauldron was readily accessible to them. After stepping into the inn/pub, both Auror's made their way to the rear of the pub, stepping out into the alley behind the inn. After tapping the appropriate bricks with their wands, they stepped through to Diagon Alley. Normally the hot spot for shopping was bustling with activity, however, it was a damp, rainy, cold Tuesday morning, and it wasn't yet 7am. Most of the shop owners were just beginning to walk into their business's themselves.

Because of the nature of their work, no one bothered to question the two twenty something wizards about why they were out so early. That, and that day's Daily Prophet was already out and about, being sold to those who didn't have a daily subscription delivered to their home. In it would be articles covering the latest raid, and the obituary list to follow it. For other reasons entirely, Harry stopped to purchase a copy and opened it to the Quidditch section. "Oy, I hope Ron doesn't read this before coffee," he muttered, "Chudley Cannon's got a nasty beating."

"About time, the game only started two days ago."

Harry grinned at Draco's response, then, rolled up the paper and tucked it under his arm. "Ready to go to work, love?"

"I promise you this, Harry," Draco muttered, as though he hadn't heard his lover. He stood in front of Harry. His face was deadly serious. "I might be Lucius Malfoy's son, and he did some horrible things, but I'll be damned if I take any bullying about his death today. I'm his son. I'm not _him_."

"I know, Draco. They know too." Draco searched Harry's eyes before he finally gave a slight nod.

The two had apparated to work so many times before that it merely took a thought for both of them. They arrived in the 'Apparation Zone' of the ministry, a designated spot that allowed for wizards and witches alike to apparate and dis-apparate at their will, without causing a disruption to the rest of the ministry.

"Oh, Ron, honestly, it was just one match!"

Harry winced at hearing Hermione's shrill voice from down the hall. "Looks like Ron didn't have coffee before looking at the paper," he muttered, striding down the hall with Draco behind him, chuckling all the way. When both men entered Ron Weasley's office, they found the red head with his head on the table, the Daily Prophet sprawled out in front of him with a picture of the Chudley Cannon's Keeper continually missing the quaffle as it sailed through a hoop, and Hermione Granger standing beside a sitting Ron, her arms crossed over her chest. Upon seeing Harry and Draco enter the room, she sobered up slightly.

"Morning, Harry, Draco..." her cinnamon brown eyes lingered on Draco for a moment longer before bouncing over to Ron again. "Would one of you please tell Ron that losing one match isn't going to be the end of the Chudley Cannons?"

"Ron, losing one match isn't going to be the end of the Chudley Cannons," Harry said blankly, without missing a beat. "That and the fact that they have the longest losing streak on record hasn't stopped them before." Draco added. Even Harry had to chortle at that.

"I'm going back to my office. Severus is almost done with that potion, and I know he'll be wanting to test it fairly soon." Hermione made to leave the office, but stopped at Draco's side. "I'm sorry about your father, Draco." she offered, not knowing what else to say. Lucius had been a despicable man, but still...he'd been the only father Draco had ever known.

"Lucky you, getting to work with Snape when he's had no sleep," was Draco's response. Hermione arched an eyebrow. "How do you know he's had no sleep?"

"He was my potions master for seven years, Granger. I know things." He nodded his head at her, a silent thank you for her concern and turned back to Ron, who was now sitting up, but had his head lulled back to stare at the ceiling. "C'mon Weasley, the day isn't all that bad. You captured Lestrange last night. You can't have everything in the world, can you?" Ron might as well have been catatonic for all the two men knew. Apparently, where Ron Weasley was concerned, some things never changed. Not even his one track mind for Quidditch.

"I think I'll let you handle this one, Potter," Draco murmured, "Weasley, it would appear, is in another world all together."

"Thank you so much for the support, Draco," his partner grumbled, "I'll always remember when you left me to deal with Ron alone."

"You can thank me tonight." Before Harry could reply, Draco had walked out the door, a smug look on his face. How he loved that man. He was 25, alive, and still a young prince all in one. Still, there was one other matter to attend to that Draco was not looking forward to at all. He was met with it when he walked into his office, shrouded in the green, black, and silver decorating that he loved. An emerald green carpet, nearly black wood desk, and two black leather chairs with a glass coffee table occupied the room. A fire place was behind the desk, and on the mantle was a silver plate, two matching goblets, and silver eating utensils. Save for one difference, it was as he left it the previous night. Said difference rose from her seat, her long, white blonde hair flowing from an ashen face that spoke of crying and grief.

"Mother," Draco greeted, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it gently, "will you be alright?"

"I will be fine, Draco," she answered, though her voice was scratchy, evidence of a night filled with tears, "your fathers death was unexpected, but not surprising. It had to come, either by his hand or by the ministries, one way or another. Still...it doesn't make it any easier." Draco eased her back into her chair. "Would you like me to come stay with you?"

Narcissa shook her head. "You have a life to lead, Draco. You can't spend it hiding me from the public eye. The Malfoy's and Black's have spent centuries grasping for high stature. When things go right for us, it is a gift. When they go wrong, it is a curse."

"Mother, I'm staying with you. No reporter from the prophet or agent from the ministry will bother you while I'm there. They wouldn't dare." Draco lowered himself into the high back chair across from his mother, leaning forward. "The Daily Prophet probably already has reporters staking out the mansion, the ministry is more than likely going to want to question you to see if you knew anything about Fathers new dealings with the old Deatheaters. You can not leave yourself open like that. It's dangerous, not to mention needless." His eyes carefully watched his mother. She seemed so broken, even over the death of a husband such as Lucius. He'd never really shown the greatest emotional care to his family. Still, Narcissa had taken the vows, and she took them seriously. She'd loved Lucius as much as she could, but her pride and joy, as anyone could tell, was Draco. She'd gone behind the backs of her husband and Voldemort himself to ensure his safety. There was no greater love than that.

Draco wasn't about to watch the press or the ministry portray her as some kind of woman hell bent on making Lucius' dream come true, or watch them throw slander her way because of her marriage to the infamous Malfoy or in any other way dis honor her.

"You are as stubborn as your father."

"If there was one thing to be proud of, I suppose it would be that," her son admitted. "I take it you came by floo?"

"What gave it away?"

"The soot on the bottom of your robes."

"Well, if a certain ministry auror would take the time to clean his fire place every now and again."

"Yes, mother."

Narcissa smiled, standing up and moving to kiss her son on the cheek. "You are my son, and I am very proud of the life you've made for yourself. We have our differences, and so did you and your father, but none the less. I am proud of you Draco. There is nothing you could ever do that would change that." She placed both white as pearl hands on his cheeks and bent his head down, lightly kissing him on the forehead the way she always did before leaving him. "I will be at the mansion. Your room will be prepared by the time you arrive this evening."

Before he could answer, a knock came at the door, a familiar one. Draco turned to greet Harry who walked through, carrying a piece of parchment. Upon entering the room, the Boy Who Lived stopped short, seeing Narcissa Malfoy in his lovers office. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, Mr. Potter. I was only inquiring about my sons state of mind following the events of last night."

"I'm sorry about your loss," Harry inclined his head, ignoring the protective look Draco gave him, "it's always hard to lose someone we love, especially in such a way."

"Yes, well..." Narcissa uncommonly shrugged, actually at a loss for words, "it was what it was." She shifted her blue eyes to her son, who stood just to the right of Harry. She did not fail to miss the warning glares Draco was giving Harry. "Draco, really. Mr. Potter, even if he wanted to, would not dare to disrespect me. I'm a widow now. And my sources do tell me that he is a kind young man, if not some what impulsive, among other things." A delicate, thin white eyebrow arched as she looked pointedly at Draco, giving him the impression that she knew very well what the 'other things' were regarding Harry. And possibly himself as well.

"My mistake," he covered quickly, "I will be at the mansion in time for dinner."

"I will make the necessary preparations." She moved to the fireplace and stepped in, turning around to bring the rest of her robes in. "And Draco dear? Do clean this fire place. There are those of us that don't enjoy traipsing across the earth in soot covered clothing. Malfoy Mansion, Parlor." In a flash powder, she was gone.

"How is she doing?"

"You saw her yourself," Draco answered. He was never good at talking about his mother. Far to protective of her, he never spoke more than two words about her to anyone. No more than three, if it was Harry, "she's grieving. She's putting on a strong facade, but...she doesn't have much left in her. That much was evident when she backed down so quickly about me coming to stay with her for a while."

"I didn't think she'd be that happy to see me."

"She wasn't happy at all, Potter."

"Harry."

"Whatever. We're at the office now."

"To true."

"I don't know how long I'll stay with her. Certainly until the hype dies out. Perhaps a few more days after that." Draco walked behind his desk and sat down, spying the piece of parchment again that Harry held tucked under his arm. "What's that you've got?"

"What they found at the raid, who was there...the odds and ends of the report pretty much," Harry perched himself on the edge of Draco's desk, handing the parchment to his partner. "It was what we expected." He was silent after that, letting Draco read over the report at his leisure.

"Well, that's that then." The young Malfoy tossed the parchment on the desk top and leaned back in his chair, propping his feat up. "Besides the other few fires we need to smother, we should be heading for peace time in no time. Weasley still whining over the Cannon's?"

"I got him coffee."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, he's still whining over the Cannon's."

"Keep him out of my site for the day."

"That shouldn't be hard. He has a mountain of paper work to do after that raid last night. I'll be surprised if he remembers his dinner date with Hermione." He looked down at Draco's snort. "What?"

"I'd be surprised if he remembered it either way."

"Says the man who forgot our lunch date last week..."

"Ah yes...but that was due to circumstances beyond my control."

"Draco, getting into an argument with Hermione about the proper protocol pertaining to apprehending a dark animagus wizard is hardly due to circumstances beyond your control."

"What would you have had be do?"

"Let her win the argument. It's the only way any of us around here get any peace."

"I never _let_ anyone win."

"What about me?"

"Least of all you."

"Is that a fact?" Harry swooped in for a kiss, catching Draco completely off guard, not because of the kiss, but because of _where_ Harry was choosing to make his affection known. But he didn't have the heart to pull away. He needed this right now, needed the comfort and assurance that everything would work out. Harry's mouth told him it would be. And Harry had never lied to him, not during school, not during university, and not working with him at the ministry.

"Take me to lunch to day?" Harry nibbled gently on Draco's lower lip, knowing that when he did that, Mr. Malfoy could not deny him anything. True to past knowledge, Draco agreed, putting all thoughts of where they were out of his mind and concentrating only on his lovers lips.

"I've got to get back to work," Harry said, pulling away, "I'll meet you here at 11:45?"

Draco nodded, smiling gently at a raven haired man who had somehow managed to steal his heart and change his views completely on life and the world. He tilted his head back as Harry walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He was stubborn like his father yes, but Draco was also strong like his mother.

He was able to wait until Harry left before the tears came.


End file.
